Buzz
From the edge of the forest, I could see the snow-capped peak of Mount Fuji in the distance. Despite the haunting rumors, Aokigahara remains a pristine forest, over 1,000 years old.
I wanted to venture into the infamous “suicide forest” alone, partly to experience the off-the-beaten-path side of traditional Japanese tourism and partly because I was intrigued by the movie The Forest. I also wanted to investigate the rumors of 'yurei'—the spirits of the departed haunting this woodland.
It's said that the 'yurei' induce hallucinations, leading wanderers deeper into the forest, feeling lost, isolated, unable to find their way back, trapped in a state of confusion and despair, ultimately deciding to end their lives. Those who manage to find their way back to light, the 'yurei' cling to their backs, accompanying them home.
There was no sound except the rustle of leaves under my feet. As I delved deeper, the atmosphere grew eerie, with wooden signs scattered throughout, urging those with suicidal thoughts to reconsider.
Venturing off the trail—a practice universally discouraged—I followed the traces of ropes tied to trees by those still grappling with their decisions. They left markers to find their way out if they had a change of heart.
According to the Japan Times, in 2010, over 200 people attempted suicide in Aokigahara forest, with only 54 returning to life.
As I tread deeper into the wilderness, scattered objects catch my eye—a water bottle, a piece of fabric, shards of broken glass, a coil of rope... I follow the trail of pink ribbon, disappearing mysteriously into the distance, realizing I've strayed far from the beaten path.
Pulling out my compass from the backpack, it's dysfunctional. I decide to veer off the pink ribbon trail, yet keep it within sight.
Suddenly, the rustle of footsteps on leaves and distant chatter reach my ears. Scanning the surroundings, I glimpse a figure in the distance, sending a shiver down my spine. Assuming it's another lost traveler like myself, I head in that direction, hoping for companionship.
But I can't catch up, until I spot a torn jacket under a tree, next to a soggy umbrella, half-empty pill blister, and a frayed rope hanging ominously. Surveying the area, debris scattered like a testament to the departed.
The first thing I do is turn off the GoPro. When setting out, I vowed not to capture the relics out of respect for the departed. Removing the GoPro from my jacket, I realize it's been off for some time, despite fully charging it before entering the woods.
Sitting down by a tree trunk amidst the vast forest, whispers of tales about these trees being haunted by yurei echo. Yet, my thoughts dwell on those who sought solace here. Surely, they endured moments of crisis, unable to find an escape.
Discovering the wonders of MytourJanuary 15, 2019
